by Silver James
Murmuring around the hitches in her breathing, she rolled her hips, tempting him to dip lower. He rubbed his chin through the soft curls at the juncture of her thighs. She opened farther for him. Well aware of the roughness of his morning stubble, he kissed her most secret of places—places he knew so well. He teased with his tongue and lips. And then he tasted her. Deeply. She was wet and ready for him.
“Please,” she sighed.
“Please what, sunshine?”
“Please love me, Cord.”
He rose above her and slid his aching erection into her softest depths. “Always, Jolie. I’ll always love you.”
He made slow, sweet love to her, their connection so deep he felt as if he was part of her—just as it should be. When he could stand it no longer, he shifted and angled her hips a little higher. Jolie’s sharp inhalation told him he’d found the spot. Increasing the tempo, he drove them higher and higher until she clenched him and shuddered. His mouth crushed hers as his body followed her lead, and he swallowed his name on her lips.
Sometime later, Jolie cupped his cheeks and studied him. “Sweetheart?”
Cord crushed her to his chest. “I love you so damn much, Jolie. You’re my life. You and CJ.”
“You realize this is all kind of wrong, right? Making love on our wedding day, before the ceremony?” Her eyes twinkled and her mouth quirked in a mischievous smile.
“I’m going to start every day making love to the woman who branded my heart.”
They had about thirty seconds’ warning before a tiny whirlwind hit the door and blew through it. Cord managed to roll over and tuck Jolie into his side before CJ lunged onto the bed and started bouncing. “Mommy! Daddy! We’re gettin’ married today.”
Laughing, he grabbed his son and pulled him down, careful to keep the blankets pulled over Jolie. Cord really needed to remember to lock their bedroom door. “We most definitely are, bubba. Go get Aunt Cassie to fix you breakfast. Mom and I will be down in a little bit.”
“Okay!” Their son bestowed sloppy little-boy kisses on their cheeks, jumped off the bed and remembered to shut the door behind him.
* * *
Three hours later, the Crazy M ranch was filled with guests. Chance and Cassie had moved into the new house they’d built on her family property. Part luxurious log house and part historic Oklahoma giraffe rock, their home was a place of warmth and love—and the perfect place for Cord to marry Jolie. A large swath of early-spring grass carpeted an area between the house and a new barn. White chairs formed rows with a broad aisle down the middle—space wide enough for two horses to walk side by side.
Cord waited in the barn with his brothers. As they had for Chance the previous summer, they’d gathered in a show of solidarity. Chase had even turned off his cell phone. Cash was there as well, though he held himself apart from the rest. Cord would push Cash about his issues, but not today. Today was all about Jolie. And CJ. About becoming family. Horses snorted and pawed in their stalls, bridles jingling. CJ bounced between his uncles. The horses had been his idea. And the Western theme. Instead of tuxes, they wore knife-edge pressed jeans. Cord’s shirt was white, the others’ Oklahoma blue, and they all wore bolo ties cinched with turquoise—his groomsmen gift to each of them.
When the time arrived, Cord helped CJ mount his horse. The gray filly had been his Christmas gift to his son. He mounted his chestnut quarter horse and his brothers followed suit. They rode out of the barn, single file. Kaden waited at the back of the crowd to hold CJ’s horse until it was time for the boy to ride down the aisle. First, the men would ride to the flower-entwined bentwood arbor where the minister waited. The bridesmaids, also mounted, would follow, then CJ, right before J. Rand escorted Jolie down the aisle. In a rare show of humor, Kaden promised he wouldn’t let the bride bolt.
A local country band played a popular love song as his brothers led the way. When Cord arrived, he dismounted and turned to watch the procession. There were three bridesmaids—friends of Jolie. Cassie, the matron of honor. CJ. And then he saw Jolie. Soft sunshine painted the day with pastel colors and cast a glow only surpassed by the bride. He’d waited so long for this moment, hoped for it with every fiber of his being, and there she was.
She reined her mare to a stop. Cord vaguely heard the minister ask about who gave this woman. Then he was moving to her, lifting her down from the horse, holding her cradled in his arms before placing her on her feet. Words. Music. More words. And then he had a ring in his hand, a ring he slid on her finger as he said, “With this ring, I give you my heart. On this day, I give my promise to walk with you, hand in hand, wherever life takes us. I offer you my heart, my soul. You and me. Together. Forever.”
Jolie said the words back, slipping a ring on his finger. Her eyes looked like emeralds sprinkled with diamonds, just like the engagement ring he’d given her kneeling there in CJ’s hospital room back in December. He felt back in control now, and all was right in his world as the minister pronounced them husband and wife and said he could kiss his bride. He did, whispering across her lips, “You are my sunshine.”
* * * * *
If you loved THE COWGIRL’S LITTLE SECRET by Silver James pick up the first book in her RED DIRT ROYALTY series:
These Oklahoma millionaires work hard and play harder.
COWGIRLS DON’T CRY
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One
Gavin Kavanagh needed a woman. Badly. He wasn’t very good at relationships. He was too damn selfish, and he had trust issues. Which meant his only choices for sexual satisfaction were typically one-night stands. Since he was too fastidious to find much pleasure in that, he usually endured months of self-imposed celibacy until the day or the week he finally decided he couldn’t stand it anymore, and he cracked.
This time, what tipped him over the edge was being in Vegas. He’d pitched in at the last minute to help out a sick friend by giving an address to several thousand cybersecurity experts. Though public speaking didn’t bother him, he much preferred to be alone in his man cave back in North Carolina.
Winding his way past noisy slot machines and crowded gaming tables, he headed for the exit, desperate to inhale fresh air and see the sky. He’d been incarcerated in this over-the-top hotel since lunchtime, and it was now almost ten at night.
On the sidewalk, he paused, taking in the garish display of neon and traffic spread before him. Vegas. Land of opportunity and lost dreams. Home of wild bachelor parties, just-past-prime entertainers and the siren lure of the big win.
He could see the appeal. The outrageous city pulsed with an almost tangible energy. If New York was the city that never slept, then Las Vegas was its manic twin. With enough disposable income and plenty of unencumbered time, a man could entertain himself here indefinitely.
But not Gavin Kavanagh. He couldn’t wait to go home.
Good lord, Kavanagh. Bullshitting hi
mself was a new low.
It wasn’t entirely a lie. He did want to go home. But there was something else he wanted more. The need writhing inside him was a voracious beast, reminding him that he was smack-dab in the land of legal hookers. For a few hundred bucks, the primeval urge to mate with a woman could be appeased.
He wasn’t going to do it. What kind of man had to pay for sex? Maybe one who was too much of a curmudgeon to play nice with a decent female? To compliment her dress and ask about her day?
If that was the cost of sex as normal people enjoyed, he was out of luck. Pressing his fingertips to his temples, he winced as a shard of pain lanced its way through his head. He’d been up since 3:00 a.m. to catch a flight out of Asheville. Hell, even with a hooker, he might fall asleep before he could take care of business.
Heaving a sigh, he strode off down the street, trying to avoid looking at scantily clad women and signs for “adult” clubs. It was like putting an alcoholic in the middle of a distillery tour.
Weaving his way among tourists and time-share hawkers, he marveled that no one batted an eye at the occasional eccentrically dressed pedestrian. Perhaps Gavin was the oddity tonight.
He walked swiftly, needing the exercise to clear his head and regain control of his libido. It was almost one in the morning back home in Silver Glen. Exhaustion made him weave on his feet, but he knew he wouldn’t sleep unless he was tired to the bone, not as buzzed as he was by the craving to feel a woman’s soft skin and curves.
If he had his way, he’d be able to sublimate his sexual desires. He was a loner. Which meant that women either thought they could change him or were a little scared of him.
As the middle child of seven brothers, he had learned to be self-sufficient at an early age. He’d viewed his younger brothers as babies and wanted to avoid their company. His older brothers had been far too cool to tolerate little Gavin hanging around.
Even the community had unwittingly isolated Gavin. The Kavanagh brood had been referred to as the Three Musketeers—Liam, Dylan and Aidan...and the Three Stooges—Conor, Patrick and James. Gavin was often overlooked, partly because he didn’t make waves.
He liked school. He never got in trouble. And though he grew to six feet in height by the ninth grade and two years later had filled out his gangly frame with muscles, he was often found with his head in a book. He knew how to fight. He could hold his own in a brawl.
But why do that when there were so many more interesting ways to spend his time?
He cut down a side street and followed it several blocks. Then, reversing his original course, he headed toward the hotel. Back here, away from the strip, there were not as many streetlights...less activity...fewer temptations to do something he might regret later. Unfortunately, he was not the only one to choose this route.
As he drew even with an alley that accommodated delivery trucks, he overheard a heated exchange. Pausing just out of sight, he listened.
The female voice surprised him. This was no place for a woman. She made her displeasure clear. “Leave me alone,” she cried. “You can’t have everything your way.”
Gavin peeked around the corner just as the man put his hands on the woman’s shoulders and shook her. The guy was about twice her size. “Stay out of it, Cass,” he said. “Or you’ll be sorry.”
That was enough for Gavin. Hurling himself into the alley, he shouted, “Let go of her.”
The petite dark-haired woman struggled, but the man had her wrists now, holding her hands away from his body. Gavin’s yell distracted the guy for a split second, enabling the woman to land a blow.
“Ow, damn it.”
Gavin seized the opportunity. With one efficient uppercut to the chin, he caused the bully to stagger backward. The guy was huge and wouldn’t have fallen, but his foot slid in loose gravel. He lost his balance and went down hard, his shoulder striking the ground first. He didn’t move.
“Hurry,” Gavin said, taking the woman’s arm and dragging her behind him. “We don’t want to be here when he wakes up.”
“But what if he’s hurt?”
Gavin paused beneath a security light to examine her face with incredulity. “Do you really care?”
Big dark eyes framed in impossibly long lashes stared at him. Small white teeth worried a lower lip that was plump and shiny. “I suppose not,” she said quietly. But she glanced over her shoulder nevertheless.
She was not the kind of woman Gavin needed tonight. Innocence framed her in an almost visible aura. His gut responded to that innocence on a visceral level with caveman lust, but he wanted sex that was hard and fast and insane. This sweet young thing was not in his league. He would scare her to death.
Still...he couldn’t resist the urge to touch her. Tucking her hair behind her ear, he brushed her cheek with his thumb. “You’re okay,” he said. “I won’t let anything happen to you, I swear.”
Her gaze clashed with his. He felt as if he knew her somehow, a strange sense of déjà vu as if he had dreamed this moment before.
“You’re very kind,” she said.
“No. I’m not. But I don’t like men who use their size to threaten women.” He could have stood there looking at her all night. She made him feel things that confused him. Aroused him.
Dragging his concentration back to the matter at hand, he touched her arm. “We should go now.” He urged her along, glad to see that even wearing four-inch heels, she was able to keep up with him. She kept a death grip on the small purse slung over her shoulder. “My car is parked at the hotel,” he said. “I can give you a ride home.”
“No.” The negative was forceful. “He knows where I live.”
Hell’s bells. “Okay, then. But we need to call the police. You should make a formal complaint.”
It was difficult to carry on a conversation when both parties were almost running. And perhaps speed was no longer called for, because there was no sign they were being followed.
“My side hurts,” she complained. “And I don’t want to involve the police.”
Slowing reluctantly, he exhaled as she leaned against a mailbox, her chest heaving.
He tried not to notice her breasts.
“How much farther?” she asked.
He named the hotel in the next block. “Did he hurt you?” Though the man’s threat had sounded menacing, Gavin hadn’t seen the guy do more than shake the woman, though that was bad enough. The argument had been escalating, however, so no telling what would have happened if Gavin hadn’t been around to stop it.
The woman straightened. “I’m fine.” Her steady gaze took him in with a head-to-toe inspection that made him mildly uncomfortable. “You could take me to your room,” she said. “So I can calm down and catch my breath.”
Gavin froze, his nostrils flaring as if he could actually inhale her scent like a wild animal recognizing its mate. “I don’t know if that’s wise.” Was this some kind of sick cosmic test of his character?
“I won’t bother you. Unless you want me to,” she said with a quick mischievous grin. “But I don’t want to be alone right now. Please.”
God help him, there was sexual interest in those beautiful eyes. He cleared his throat. “If that’s what you want. Let’s go.”
This time, as Gavin traversed the acres of gaming floor in his hotel, he barely noticed the crowd. All his focus was on the woman he had rescued. He held her narrow wrist in one hand, sure he could feel the blood pulsing in her veins as he threaded his way through the throng, pulling her behind him. In the elevator he finally had a chance to see her clearly.
While she stared at the carpeted floor, he studied her, his heart thudding, his muscles jerky with leftover adrenaline. Chin-length curly hair somewhere between dark brown and black framed a heart-shaped face. Though she couldn’t be more than five foot four at most, she appeared taller thanks to the ou
trageous shoes.
God, he loved those shoes. He could see her wearing nothing but those shoes as he laid her out on his big soft bed.
Down, boy. He told himself he wouldn’t take advantage of her vulnerable state. But he had lied to himself once tonight already.
She was rounded in all the right places, including generous breasts that threatened to spill out of the neckline of her low-cut silver dress. The material was some kind of metallic fabric that sparkled when the lights hit it. Every time she moved, the dress moved with her.
Gavin reeled from the punch of sexual hunger. Any woman would have affected him the same, he told himself. She was nothing special. “What’s your name?” he asked.
When she lifted her head and smiled, the hunger intensified. “Cassidy. Cassidy Corelli. My friends call me Cass. And who are you?”
“Gavin Kavanagh.”
The elevator dinged. Together, they stepped out. Gavin’s room was down the hallway and around the corner. He inserted the key card, opened the door and stood back for his guest to enter.
Cassidy surveyed the plush suite with raised eyebrows. “You’re either a high roller or somebody very important.”
“Not exactly.” He sprawled in an armchair, trying to appear relaxed. It was probably not a good idea to let her see the beast that rode him. “I don’t gamble. My friend was supposed to do the keynote at a conference here, but he got sick. I’m subbing.”
Casually, as if it were the most normal thing in the world, Cassidy slipped off her shoes and went to the minibar. Without waiting for permission, she extracted a soft drink and a jar of macadamia nuts. “Do you mind? I missed dinner, and I’m starving.”
“Help yourself.” When she took the chair opposite his, he nearly swallowed his tongue. The skirt of her dress was unforgiving. As she curled her legs beneath her, he caught a glimpse of bare thighs all the way to the mother lode.
